"Damn," Harry said under his breath. He was reading a report over
Hermione's shoulder. They had just received news that their latest chase
had been seen a thousand miles from where they suspected him to be.
Hermione wasn't reading the report, though. The knot in her stomach was rising higher and higher as he leaned closer and closer, mumbling to himself as he read. She closed her eyes and her breathing grew ragged. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to get away from him.
"I'm taking lunch," she said quickly as she shot up out of her chair. Harry's chin bumped her shoulder.
"I'll come with you," he said, reaching for his cloak, still reading the report.
"No!" she burst out. He snapped his head towards her, eyebrows raised, silently questioning her. "Umm, I'm, er, meeting someone," she lied.
"Ok," Harry shrugged, turning back to the report. He knew she was lying, but he didn't want to push it.
With a pop Hermione appeared in her apartment, slightly shaken. She flung herself on her couch and began to weep. This happened too much. No the crying, that was a first. She couldn't stand to be around him anymore. And she was with him all the time. All she wanted was Harry, to be Harry's. But he...
"I have to go. I have to leave. I have to get out of here," she said to herself as her head snapped up from the armrest. She hastily wiped her cheeks and began to pack. If she hadn't been in such a state she would have remembered to use magic. Instead she began throwing things into boxes and trunks. In all the confusion, she didn't hear the familiar sound of someone apparating into her apartment.
"'Mione?" Harry called from the living room. He stepped into her bedroom to see her frozen, kneeling in front of a chest of drawers. "Hermione?" he said again. "You didn't come back to the office, and I was...wait, are you going somewhere?" he said as he noticed all her clothes and possessions lying around the room. She slowly stood up and turned to face him. "Hermione!" he shouted, bounding across the room to her. "You've been crying! What's wrong?" he said as he took her face in her hands and looked at her. She turned away again. She felt her face burning where he had touched her.
"Yes, I'm leaving tonight," she said, turning back to the chest of drawers.
"For holiday? Hermione, what's going on?" he asked, concern rising in his voice.
"No. I'm leaving. I have to get out of here," she said plainly.
"But why? What's wrong?"
She racked her brain for a suitable lie. "Work," she said.
"Don't lie to me, Hermione. You love work. Now tell me what's going on!" he said firmly, impatience creeping into his voice. "Is it a guy? Your family? Did—"
"Harry, I don't have to explain everything I do, especially not to you!" she shouted, turning to face him. She immediately felt a twinge of guilt as she saw his face. He stared at his shoes.
"Is it me?" he asked softly, daring to look up at her. Her breath caught in her throat. She coughed slightly.
"Of, course not," she said nervously, picking up a sweater and beginning to fold it. "I have to do this...for me."
"Right then," he said with shining eyes. Hermione felt a kind of sick triumph at this. "Will you be back?"
"I don't know," she said harshly. She continued packing, avoiding his gaze.
"Goodbye, Hermione," he said gravely. She felt him leave and sat on her bed, staring ahead. She felt tears sting her eyes but quickly blinked them away. 'I won't cry for him,' she told herself. She hated herself for living him. She hated him for not loving her back. She hoped he would never get the letter and she could forget him. Forever.
Harry stalked into the street, head hanging, feet moving of their own accord. It was a beautiful day. A day too beautiful for something like this to happen. Harry walked and walked, letting his mind drift and wander, not paying much attention to it. He was numb. He came to rest on a park bench and finally took charge of his thought.
'Why would she just pick up and leave? Had she been planning this? What was waiting for her? A job? A guy? Why hadn't she told me? He better be damn good to her! What if he hurts her and she doesn't tell me? How can I help? What was that look when I asked her if it was me? Is it me? Is she mad at me? What did I do?' he pressed his palms against his eyelids and watched the fireworks. He had an awkward feeling that there was a question gnawing at the back of his mind. A question he didn't want to know the answer to. And the answer was sitting there in the pit of his stomach, eating away at his insides.
Hermione wasn't reading the report, though. The knot in her stomach was rising higher and higher as he leaned closer and closer, mumbling to himself as he read. She closed her eyes and her breathing grew ragged. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to get away from him.
"I'm taking lunch," she said quickly as she shot up out of her chair. Harry's chin bumped her shoulder.
"I'll come with you," he said, reaching for his cloak, still reading the report.
"No!" she burst out. He snapped his head towards her, eyebrows raised, silently questioning her. "Umm, I'm, er, meeting someone," she lied.
"Ok," Harry shrugged, turning back to the report. He knew she was lying, but he didn't want to push it.
With a pop Hermione appeared in her apartment, slightly shaken. She flung herself on her couch and began to weep. This happened too much. No the crying, that was a first. She couldn't stand to be around him anymore. And she was with him all the time. All she wanted was Harry, to be Harry's. But he...
"I have to go. I have to leave. I have to get out of here," she said to herself as her head snapped up from the armrest. She hastily wiped her cheeks and began to pack. If she hadn't been in such a state she would have remembered to use magic. Instead she began throwing things into boxes and trunks. In all the confusion, she didn't hear the familiar sound of someone apparating into her apartment.
"'Mione?" Harry called from the living room. He stepped into her bedroom to see her frozen, kneeling in front of a chest of drawers. "Hermione?" he said again. "You didn't come back to the office, and I was...wait, are you going somewhere?" he said as he noticed all her clothes and possessions lying around the room. She slowly stood up and turned to face him. "Hermione!" he shouted, bounding across the room to her. "You've been crying! What's wrong?" he said as he took her face in her hands and looked at her. She turned away again. She felt her face burning where he had touched her.
"Yes, I'm leaving tonight," she said, turning back to the chest of drawers.
"For holiday? Hermione, what's going on?" he asked, concern rising in his voice.
"No. I'm leaving. I have to get out of here," she said plainly.
"But why? What's wrong?"
She racked her brain for a suitable lie. "Work," she said.
"Don't lie to me, Hermione. You love work. Now tell me what's going on!" he said firmly, impatience creeping into his voice. "Is it a guy? Your family? Did—"
"Harry, I don't have to explain everything I do, especially not to you!" she shouted, turning to face him. She immediately felt a twinge of guilt as she saw his face. He stared at his shoes.
"Is it me?" he asked softly, daring to look up at her. Her breath caught in her throat. She coughed slightly.
"Of, course not," she said nervously, picking up a sweater and beginning to fold it. "I have to do this...for me."
"Right then," he said with shining eyes. Hermione felt a kind of sick triumph at this. "Will you be back?"
"I don't know," she said harshly. She continued packing, avoiding his gaze.
"Goodbye, Hermione," he said gravely. She felt him leave and sat on her bed, staring ahead. She felt tears sting her eyes but quickly blinked them away. 'I won't cry for him,' she told herself. She hated herself for living him. She hated him for not loving her back. She hoped he would never get the letter and she could forget him. Forever.
Harry stalked into the street, head hanging, feet moving of their own accord. It was a beautiful day. A day too beautiful for something like this to happen. Harry walked and walked, letting his mind drift and wander, not paying much attention to it. He was numb. He came to rest on a park bench and finally took charge of his thought.
'Why would she just pick up and leave? Had she been planning this? What was waiting for her? A job? A guy? Why hadn't she told me? He better be damn good to her! What if he hurts her and she doesn't tell me? How can I help? What was that look when I asked her if it was me? Is it me? Is she mad at me? What did I do?' he pressed his palms against his eyelids and watched the fireworks. He had an awkward feeling that there was a question gnawing at the back of his mind. A question he didn't want to know the answer to. And the answer was sitting there in the pit of his stomach, eating away at his insides.
